The Expectations of an American Citizen
by moonfaerie326
Summary: There she stood with her hand still raised in the air knowing that when she put it down that that would be it, that that would mean they didn't make it. He had promised, and he wasn't here. angst!crack!fic.


**Rating: **K+

**Disclaimer: **I have never eaten a _Peep_ before. Are they any good? Sparkly marshmallows are kind of off putting to me, but people seem to enjoy them. You know what this means right? I do not own NCIS, and I have never owned a _Peep_. My life is sad.

**THE EXPECTATIONS OF AN AMERICAN CITIZEN**

She was done, she had actually finished it (she had had her doubts). She was officially an American citizen now (after so long).

She had worked so hard for this (she couldn't even count the number of times she had passed out from exhaustion over the past few months), she _wanted_ this more than anything (it would mean she finally belonged), and it had happened (_at last_).

She had dreamed of this moment (it was pretty much all she could think about). She had imagined great joy, and exuberant hugs from everyone she cared about. Just thinking about this day had made her feel special, wanted, and truly at home (something she had never really felt in Israel), and yet the day had arrived and she didn't feel any of those things. Instead she felt disappointed, angry, and hurt (hope still lingered within her chest as well).

_They could still walk in_, she reasoned with herself, as she recited the lines she could now repeat in her sleep (she had woken up one night to find herself doing just that). _Traffic was bad _(no it wasn't), she made excuses for them because they told her they would be there (some even promised). As her ceremony came to a close she couldn't make excuses for them any longer (it just hurt too much).

They weren't here, and she knew that they weren't coming. So she stood there after she had officially been sworn in as an American citizen, her hand frozen in mid air because she just knew that when she put it down that that would be it. That would mean they really hadn't shown (he _promised_ her). When she finally let her hand fall to its place at her side her shoulders slumped.

She was an American, and all she felt now was tired.

* * *

"Congratulations, Ziva!" Abby exclaimed, pulling her into a hug as soon as she deemed appropriate (Ziva was surprised it had taken that long). "I am so excited! You're officially one of us now. Oh! We need to celebrate!"

Abby was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet and Ziva couldn't help the small tilt her lips gave. Abby hadn't really been herself lately, and it was nice to see that she still had that effervescent personality in there somewhere (it could only be contained for so long).

"No, I am okay Abby. I think I am just going to go home and –"

"You are not going home to wallow, Ziva David newly appointed American citizen," Abby stated, placing her hand on her hips as she stared her down. McGee looked over her shoulder with a shrug, and Ziva let out a sigh (it was hard to sway Abby when she was set on something). "So _what_ if they weren't here?" She huffed, and Ziva looked at her in shock (Abby was _angry_). "_We_ all were here, and that is what matters?"

Ziva managed a half-hearted smile, and gave a nod in agreement. She didn't have it in her to tell Abby that this was different (Tony _promised_). "I am glad you all could make it," she said sincerely, making sure to lock eyes with everyone who had shown up.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Ducky stated with a warm smile, and logically she knew that the words were meant to make her feel better but they ripped her apart on the insides (some people would).

"Okay," she smiled, and while it wasn't her biggest smile it was real. "Let's go celebrate," she got cheers in response, and she was just happy to be with people who cared in this moment.

* * *

"To celebrating!" Ziva cheered, raising her shot glass high above her head before bringing it to her lips and downing it in record time (it tasted good _and_ it made her feel better). "What are we celebrating, again?" she whispered loudly, wiping up a stray drop with her thumb and sucking on it.

"I … don't remember," McGee hiccupped, swirling his glass between his fingers like it was the most amazing thing ever (Abby thought it looked pretty cool too).

"Your citizenship!" Abby shouted sipping her red drink through a black straw decorated with skulls (she brought it from home. She had said something about it sprucing up her night).

"To "your citizenship"!" Ziva mimicked, raising yet another shot to her lips (this was her twentieth one, and she didn't think she was ready to stop).

"No, it's _your_ citizenship!" Abby stressed, sucking on her straw until her eyes crossed.

"McGee?" Ziva questioned, poking him in the ribs when she got no response. "I think he is garbage," she announced to Abby before delicately stacking her shot glasses into a pyramid (she was still agile with her fingers, even when incapacitated).

Silence reigned over their little group for a few moments before Abby burst into laughter. "I think you mean "wasted", and yes he is," she wheezed (she was practically in tears by the time the words were out of her mouth).

Ziva shrugged noncommittally. "It is the same thing, yes?" When she didn't get a response in reply she turned to Abby only to see her eagerly waving down the bartender (still laughing). "I think you have had enough Abby," Ziva stated (she wasn't slurring), her mind felt a bit fuzzy but she would always have her friend's back (no matter what).

She had this feeling the back of her mind that she wanted gone; it caused her heart to wrench in the weirdest way (she didn't like it). "We should get going," Ziva announced, suddenly feeling sluggish, and sad (damn alcohol for being a depressant).

"Yeah," Abby bobbed her head (and she didn't stop).

Ziva stood then, slipping a few bills between the crevices in her artfully crafted pyramid. "I will grab McGee. You lead the way," she stated, already hauling said man up by the arm.

Abby nodded again, swiping her straw out of her drink and tossing it into her bowling bag-purse. "Where is Jimmy?" she questioned suddenly, and Ziva found herself wondering the same thing until she remembered he hadn't come out with them (where had he gone again?).

"Not here," she mumbled, slipping beneath McGee's arm and walking towards the door She's surprised she is walking straight (well, as straight as someone who had twenty shots can).

The cool night air felt good on her face, though it didn't stop the effects of the alcohol coursing through her veins (if anything she was getting more disoriented by the second). "CAB!" she yelled hoping to get one to stop (none did). "Abby call a cab," she groaned, shifting McGee's weight on her shoulder once a more (the man had bony arms, or was that his elbow?).

Abby hailed a cab in record time, and slid into the bench seat before helping to pull McGee in. Just as Ziva was about to crawl in after them her phone rang. She pulled it out of her back pocket and pressed it to her ear as soon as she had situated herself inside and shut the door to the cab. "First and R street, please," she rasped to the cab driver before realizing she was on the phone. "Hello?" she questioned, wondering who would be calling her at this time (what time was it anyway?).

"_Ziva?_" The voice questioned (she liked this voice; it held just the right amount of gravelly husk).

"I am Ziva," she argued, because how dare this nice voice try and take her name.

"_You are also drunk_," the voice laughed (at her), and she huffed.

"We are celebrating," she explained to the voice (perhaps a little defensively). McGee shifted in the seat next to her, his elbow digging into her side (it was his elbows). "Tim has bony elbows," she complained, squirming away from the man next to her so she was pressed against the window.

"_You're with McGee?_" the voice sounded surprised (she wondered why).

"Yes. Timothy McGee is my friend!" she exclaimed, suddenly feeling very proud.

"Ziva …" McGee groaned from his spot on Abby's shoulder (he may have been drooling). "You're being loud."

"Sorry McGee!" she apologized quickly before turning back to the person on the phone. "McGee is wasted-garbage," she informed, feeling very helpful (that nagging feeling was pulling at her heart now).

The voice had laughed; much like Abby had early (she thought she had gotten it right that time). "_I'm sure he is_," the voice chuckled (she realized she didn't know the voices name).

"Who is this?" she asked (she was losing her train of thought).

"_Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo_," the voice informed.

She gasped (loud, and obnoxious). "I once knew a Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo!" she shared, feeling very excited.

"_Once?_" The voice questioned, it sounded sad (she didn't like that). "_What happened to him_?"

"I lost him," she whispered conspiratorially.

"_What do you mean you lost him?_" Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo asked.

"I cannot find him," she reasoned, "he has disappeared!" She didn't know where he went, she just knew that he wasn't here (and maybe she thinks she lost him).

There was a distinct chuckle (the kind that warmed her insides), before the voice spoke again. _"I am right here, Zee-vah."_

"Yeah, he called me that too," she whispered, getting lost in her drunken haze (she was starting to feel good again).

"_I'm sure he did_," the voice replied. "_Listen, I don't know if you are going to remember this in the morning or not, but I wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm going to make it up to you."_

"I do not know what you are talking about," she sang into the phone (and she didn't).

There was a long drawn sigh over the phone. "You will tomorrow," the voice sounded sad again (which made her sad).

"You are sad," she pointed out suddenly, biting down on her thumb as she waited for him to speak to her.

"_Yeah, listen, I got to go_," the voice said hurriedly, and she strained to hear the other voices that were filtering in through the line (she couldn't). "_I will see you tomorrow though, 'kay_?"

"Okay …" she was confused (by _everything_). She missed the voice already ( a lot).

* * *

She doesn't remember hanging up the phone, she doesn't remember getting to her apartment, and she certainly doesn't remember dragging McGee and Abby up with her (she doesn't really remember a lot), but she _does_ remember the headache she had when she woke up (because it is still happening).

"Never again," she swore, rolling over onto her side as the light invaded her eyelids again.

"It's an American tradition, Ziva," Abby promised, bouncing already despite all she had to drink the night before. "Embrace it."

"I do not want to "embrace it", I want it to go away," Ziva argued, shooting Abby a glare over her shoulder before wincing in pain.

"Well then don't drink so much," Abby reasoned. "Seriously, normal people do not drink as much as you did."

"I was having fun," Ziva groaned, pulling her pillow over her face to stop the sunlight (Seriously, why was it so in her face this morning?)

"Oh I know," Abby smiled (it was the type of smile that told you that something else was going on). "McGee knows," she continued. "_Tony_ knows."

"Tony?" It was a question, and Ziva was beyond confused. She peeked out from behind the pillow, one eye cracked open a smidge. "How does Tony know?"

The only response was Abby jumping off of the bed, with a shout of "You have flowers" over her shoulder (that girl was going to get it).

Ziva followed her into the kitchen (she wasn't stomping though). "Abby!" she yelled, only to stop dead in her tracks at the sight of the smiling male in her living room (she also noticed the barely conscious one).

"Why are you here?" she questioned, momentarily forgetting her ire at the goth scientist (_momentarily_).

"I brought you flowers," he gestured to the beautiful bouquet resting on her countertop. From the looks of it they had already been snipped, and placed into her favorite vase (she resisted the urge to sniff them).

"I see that," she replied, crossing her arms and arching her eyebrow while waiting for her answer.

"You look surprisingly well," he started, and he watched as her eyes started to flame. "I mean, from the way you sounded last night I was sure you were in for a hell of a morning."

She purposefully ignored her pounding head. "I have a high tolerance," she dismissed. "Tony, why are you here?" She questioned again, she was confused and pieces of last night were beginning to come back to her (making her even more confused).

"I came to apologize to a beautiful American citizen who I made a promise to that didn't hold up," he took a step forward, but she would not be swayed (yet).

"I do not know whom you speak of," she turned her head up, her lips quirking upward.

"I am talking about Ziva David," he replied (he wasn't sure if he was allowed to smile yet).

"I once knew a Ziva David," she turned to him then, her eyes bright and he knew she remembered.

"Once?" he questioned, playing along as he stepped forward. "What happened to her?"

"She became Special Agent Ziva David," she whispered, just as he pulled into a hug (the type of hug she had been waiting for since yesterday).

"And Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo couldn't be happier," he whispered into her ear, causing her to shiver.

She couldn't help the thrill that ran through her spine at his words. After all, she was an American now, and she knew that things were going to be different from here on out.

**END**

**So I am tired, and apparently this is what comes from long nights of studying forensics and writing 22 page papers. Yeah, I don't know what happened here either. All I know is I have to go to bed because I have school in the morning. Blah. **

**Despite the crack!filled-ness that this fic presents I would still love some reviews (I ADORE REVIEWS). **


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